


I Might Hate Myself More Than I Hate My Dad

by silver_moon_howler



Category: Batgirl (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Nightwing (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics), Red Robin (Comics), The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Bad Parenting, Barbara Gordon is Oracle, Damian Wayne is Bad at Feelings, Depressed Dick Grayson, Dick Grayson Needs a Hug, Everyone Has Issues, Everyone Needs A Hug, F/M, Gen, Hurt Tim Drake, Jason Todd Has Issues, Jason is a Dork, Mentioned Bruce Wayne, Minor Barbara Gordon/Dick Grayson, Multi, Recreational Drug Use, Tim Drake Angst, Tim Drake Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-23
Updated: 2019-09-23
Packaged: 2020-10-27 03:13:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20753396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silver_moon_howler/pseuds/silver_moon_howler
Summary: Not much to say, Umbrella Academy but with the Batfam, because nobody seems to see the connection but me.





	I Might Hate Myself More Than I Hate My Dad

On the twelfth hour of the first day of October, 1989, 43 women around the world gave birth. This was unusual only in the fact that none of these women had been pregnant when the day first began. 

Sir Bruce Wayne, eccentric billionaire and explorer, resolved to locate and adopt as many of the children as possible. 

He got seven of them. 

\-----

_ The figure got up on stage, his hand shaking as he unpacked his violin. He pulled out the instrument, sliding onto the stool. His fingers were clasped on the bow as he pulled back his arm, taking a deep breath, resting his chin on the padded surface. He slid his string against the chords, feeling the vibration flow through him. Electricity sparked through his finger and his energy coursed into his music. He shut his eyes tightly, swallowing as the steady pulse of the spotlight turned to dull moonlight.  _

Dick breathed out, his voice raspy from sleep. He lumbered through the thin hallways of the pod. His thin, lithe form boxed up in the small space. He sighed out, stirring his cereal vacantly. Outside a sheet of black covered the night sky, blindingly vacant. Dicky sighed, pushing his bowl away to armor up and head out. He pulled the suit on, opening the hatch with a hiss. 

** _Number One: Dick Grayson_ **

_ The violinist screwed his face in concentration, flicking his wrist, weaving the strings back and forth, back and forth. He let his breath flow with the ebbs of the music, pouring frustration, boredom, energy. In and out, in and out, stroking the strings. His music reached a high peak, edging, shrieking golds and lilacs, fluttering like petals.  _

Penguin’s thug slammed the father down against the wall, 

“Show me where the safe is or your family's dead”. The wife whimpered, grouping her children close to her chest. The father whimpered as shiny metal guns were pressed to his wife’s head. 

“Just leave us alone," the father pleaded. His body was shoved to the window, just before the silhouette of a woman disappeared. The thug cursed, looking behind the father’s back, “What the fu-”. 

The mother cried out as the criminal was slammed down, knocked out quickly. Cass kicked the gun out of the way heading toward the next man, pulling him forward, snapping his neck against her thigh. She jumped up, throwing a dagger straight for the man’s sleeves, pinning him. She punched him straight in the nose, splattering blood against the family portraits.

** _Number Two: Cassandra Cain_ **

_ Thin fingers tapped against the chords, changing the melody. The music reaching its climax, peaking like snow capped mountain tops fashioned from bronze.The tune doubled, fluttering like a feather. Adrenaline coursed in his fingers like rushing traffic. Strings of hair fell over beautiful cerulean eyes, filled with decades of sorrow planted in a patch of begonias. The whites of his eyes sparkled like camera flashes, the sparkles grew brighter and brighter and the sound of reporters jumbled behind his music.  _

Cameras flashed as Barbara walked out to the red carpet, perfect curls resting on her shoulders regally. Jems set a clutch around her necks and in brooches. Her dress was velvet, darker than her hair even. She waved, her dark green eyes glimmering in the flashing, she flipped her hair, posing, resting her hand on the crook of her hip, dazzling them with a smile. The cameras flashed faster and faster as they shouted for her attention, her approval.

** _Number Three: Barbara Gordon_ **

_ The figure’s silhouette, sat under twin spotlights. His tune spiralling down, calming now, a continuous flowing river. His head was bent, his ears cocked looking for mistakes in the chord, short notes in the melody. The spotlights flashes, getting brighter till it was a fully lit room, empty in the way a cheap motel might be.  _

Dark red Vans propped up on the frame of their bed, before swinging out to the floor. Jason smiled brightly waving at an older man, curled over his hands, muttering. 

“Hey, you”, he slapped his arm softly, “Stay strong, I believe in you”, he twirled around, smirking at a frazzled woman, “You, not so much”. He fixed his leather jacket, strolling out, bruises decorating his face. The woman chuckled, waving goodbye cheerfully. Jason stopped in front of the check out desk, smiling. The worker frowned, sliding his stuff forward, “Bye, Jason, see you soon”, he flipped a coin which Jason caught. 

“Stay sober”, the worker called out as he walked away. Jason turned around, smirking as he kissed the coin, clutching it to his chest. 

** _Number Four: Jason Todd_ **

_ The music was sweet now, powdered sugar fluttering around him like snow fall. The sugar soon faded to the twinkling of the spotlight. His fingers dance and glided, as he let the music guide him now, easy going, sliding like melted butter. He smiled triumphantly, happy that he had hit the note right. Blue light settled on the lines of his face, collecting in his cheek bones, the curve of his nose, along the flutters of his eyelashes. _

Dick lumbered along the surface of the moon, his face slack and emotionless. He hopped till he reached a crater and stood there, watching the sun rise along the states softly, a bright, delicate light. He gave a longing look, almost like his heart would burst if he didn’t do something, anything. He moved to sit down in the tiny lawn chair he had brought back from earth. A little beep rang from his forearms communicator, 

“Incoming transmission”, it informed, flashing softly against the dome of of his suit. He looked down, shock blooming on his face, he swallowed. Looking back to earth tears in his eyes. 

The music was sad now, the strings weeped softly as Cass leaned down to pick up the man's blood stained wife. She pulled a notebook out, writing out on the pad. 

‘Your families safe now’. She pocketed the pad in her leather utility belt, looking up at the flashing TV. 

“We’re going on now to a breaking story”. Cass looked at the Tv, the mask concealing her shock pinched eyes. 

  
  


The camera flashes grew more and more aggressive, informers were rushing up to the photographers with the latest news. Barbara looked around panic as people yelled out, 

“Barbara, when was the last time you saw your father”? 

“Barbara, have you heard from your brothers yet”, 

“Barbara, will you be wearing Valentino to the funeral”? Barbara looked around panicked, her handler rushed up, whispering something in her ear. She looked slightly more relieved but still panicked by the swarming reporters. She apologized softly, leaving the carpet, shielding her own face from photography.

  
  


Jason stumbled around the streets, his vision blurred. He swerved, running up to a dealer, whose face was hooded with shadows. Jason raced forward, embracing the dealer, who slipped the drugs to him. He smiled, turning away to walk off. And soon the silhouette of the alleyways blue highlight turned to the lights of an ambulance. A emergency responder leaned over Jason’s body, pressing the defibrillator against his chest. He muttered, shooting a pulse of electricity into his chest. Jason shot up, gasping, tears trickling from his eyes. He chuckled, high fiving the responder, 

“Whoo”, he screamed, exhilarated. Gasping, he hyperventilated looking up at the TV the responder had left up. 

** _Breaking new_ **

** _Moments ago police report the death of the world's most eccentric and reclusive billionaire. _ **

_ The lights flashed up and the figure looked up abruptly, gasping. His brain aching from the severed concentration. He blinked as a wave of exhaustion fell behind his eyes, he yawned. Stretching as he stood up. He sniffed, wiping his nose packing up his things methodically. The spell had been broken, he was him again, the beauty in his music seeped away from his bones filling back into the air leaving his finger tips. A part of him took pride in knowing that he created that beauty, all on his own.  _

** _Number Seven: Tim Drake_ **

He sniffed, the smell of smoke curled in his lungs as Tim stumbled down the street. He huddled into his collar trying to hide his face from the sting. He stopped in front of the book store, staring at the various magazines and CDs hanging in the front. Horns blarred as he stopped at the window, staring into the Tv screen. He sniffed, shivering as he leaned in. 

“Dad," he whispered, a picture of Bruce appearing next to the reporters head. He looked away, tears welling in his eyes. 

  
  
  


The car ride home was quiet. He sat in the window looking out at his reflection. Memories of the house passing by, the smallest room with the least amount of stuff, excluded from every group, standing next to his father as the others went off and had fun. He tapped his fingers nervously as memories swirled nervously in his stomach. 

Tim walked up the front door steps, swinging open the door. He took everything in, shrinking under the gaze of the family portraits. He remembered growing up Bruce would get a new one every few years or so, the painter he had hired asked if Tim would be joining but thewhitthering glare Bruce shot at him quickly shut the painter up. 

He ran his fingers along the carved wooden door frames. He stopped leaning in staring at Silena who stared up at the wall, Tim opened his mouth to speak. 

“Tim”? Tim whirled around to face Barbara, who glided down from the stairs like she owned the place. 

“You actually came," she spoke in aww. Tim smoothed down his jeans, his hands rubbed raw. “Hey, Babs," Barbara shook her head in disbelief, “Hi Tim," she whispered. Barbara stepped down and hugged him. 

The floorboards squeaked and Tim jumped, his eyes twitching over to Cass. She was so quiet you'd never know she was there until she slit your throat. 

‘what's he doing here’, Cass signed haughtily, “you don't belong, not after what you did," Barbara grumbled, 

“You really going to do this today?" Her eyes slid over the other's armor, "Way to dress for the occasion by the way”. 

Cass smirked, “At least I am wearing black”, her hands flew to respond quickly, she smiled walking off. Tim rubbed his neck nervously, “You know what--I maybe she's right and I shoul-”, 

“Forget about her”, Barbara assured, “I'm glad you're here”. They stared at each other awkwardly, smiling tentatively every second or so. 

  
  
  


Dick stared awkwardly around the room, everything was exactly how he remembered it and yet none of it looked the same. He opened the drawers and checked behind the blinds, Cas walked in silently, 

‘I can save you some time’, Dick continued to fidget with the blinds having not heard her. Cass sneered, stomping over to tap him on the shoulder, Dick jumped, swinging his fist with enough force to knock her head clean off. Cass dodged easily, coming up from behind him and pinning his arm behind his back, she stepped back signing out. 

‘I can save you some time, they are all locked.   
no forced entry, no sign of struggle.   
Nothing’. Dick sighed, dusting off the suit jacket he had put on for the occasion, “Cass, I-uh..I didn't see you. Uhm, how exactly do you know that”? She shrugged, ‘The autopsy report’, 

“And you have this why”? 

‘Well, that's because I broke into the coroner's office. And surprise, surprise, Dad's death was normal. Just a boring, old heart failure’. 

“Yeah so”? 

‘So why are you in here, checking all the windows’? Dick gnawed on his thumb nail, “Were you the first one on the scene”? 

‘Alfred found him’. 

“Yeah, I talked to Alfred. He said he couldn't find Dad's bat pendant’, Cass smile ticked, ‘And your point is’? She signed it out quickly, like she couldn't wait to jab holes in Dick's theory. 

“Can you think of a single time you saw Dad and he wasn't wearing that pendant”? Cass tilted her head thoughtfully, she shook her head. 

“Which means someone took it. Which means there's a chance he wasn't alone when he died”. Dick looked desperate, his voice was stretched thin, he was grasping for stars and he knew it. Cass pinched the bringer of her nose, right along a large scar she had gotten years ago, ‘Nothing to solve, nothing like that. It is just a sad old man who kicked it in a big, empty house. Just like he deserved. I know Dick, I know you were the one who has spent the longest time with him, I know in those years you saw a part we did not see, but please. He's gone, you can not do anything’. 

Dick clenched his teeth, “You Should leave”.

Cassandra frowned,‘Whatever you say Brother’. 

  
  


Tim ran his fingers along the blinds of the books, everything here was familiar in the way a hotel was. You had memories but you knew that this room was not your home, so you just couldn't settle down, you knew you'd be leaving. It was the same with every other room, the memories all felt fake, implanted like some other Tim had gone through the horrible ordeal. 

He stopped in front of the wall he needed, sliding a large hardback book out, his face smiling on the back, that was one of the first pictures taken of him. He knew it was safe to assume it was the only picture of him in the whole house. He sighed, opening the book, flicking through the pages. 

“Ah, Master Timothy.” Tim jumped hiding the book behind his back. 

“Alfred”, he rushed forward, hugging the older man. Alfred chuckled, smiling warmly, “So good to see you,'' his eyes caught on the book hidden behind his back, he frowned. “Master Timothy, I wasn't aware we were starting a new interest in looting libraries, not taking after Jason are you”? Tim shook his head frantically, pulling his biography out from behind his back, “Ah”, Alfred hummed, “My mistake, it was already yours to begin with.'' 

Tim bit his lip, “Do you know, uhm, if he ever read it”? Alfred fixed his glasses, staring at his signature in the book, “Hmm, not that I'm aware of." Tim nodded, looking at the floor. It was silent for a moment before Dick walked in, running forward and tackling Tim in a bear hug, “Timmy, oh, Timmy. You came, I thought you weren't going to." He looked up to see Alfred and smiled gently. "Nice to see you too, Alfred." 

Tim struggled out of Dick grip, 

"I forgot something in my room," he countered awkwardly, limping off to go find his room. Dick followed Tim as he left before turning to Alfred and grinning. 

“I missed you Alfred”, 

“As did I, Master Dick. I don't think I quite forgave Master Bruce for firing you off to the moon, it's a wonder I raised that man because I taught the younger Bruce to face his problems like a grown man and not frenzied politician”. He sniffed, patting Dick softly on the shoulder. He trailed off, staring at the portrait sadly. 

Dick followed his gaze to Damian’s painting,

“Alfred”, 

“Hmm”? Dick shuffled on his feet, “How many days has it been since, Damian disappeared”? Alfred smiled wistfully, fixing his cotton gloves, “It's been 16 years, four months, and 14 days.   
Your father insisted I keep track”. 

Dick swung his arms out, staring at his feet, “You wanna know something stupid? I always used to leave the lights on for him. I was scared that he would come back, it would be late, and the house would be dark and he wouldn't be able to find us, so he'd leave again. So, every night I'd make a little snack and make sure all the lights were on”.

Alfred , folded his arms primly, “Oh, I remember your snacks.   
I'm pretty sure I stepped in half those peanut butter and marshmallow sandwiches”, they both sighed, “Your father always believed that Number Five was still out there somewhere.   
He never lost hope. And look where that got him”. Dick nodded, continuing to stare at nothing. 

  
  


Barbara walked softly into the office, running her fingers along the fancy swirls on Bruce's door. She paused, hearing muttering coming from under the desk. Jason shuffled around the drawers, throwing documents and cheap pens. He paused, sniffing at a fountain pen before shrugging at throwing it behind his back. 

“Where’s the cash Dad? Where's the cash”? Barbara creeped up, tapping him on the back softly, ''Jason?" Jason jumped, slamming his head the desk, Barbara winced. 

“What are you doing here?" She asked, crinkling her nose at the smell of alcohol wavering off him. 

“Oh, Barbara, wow is that you? It's been too long”, he lit a cigarette, spitting on the carpet. Barbara held back a chuckle, he reached in, scooping her up for a hug, she smiled. 

“So what are you doing here?" She asked, ignoring the burning smell coming from his lips as he tapped ash on the floor, “Oh, you know. Not much, just coming to see if the wicked witch was dead, you know, all that fanfare”. He jazzed hansed her, smiling bright, “and he is, you know how I know?" Barbara shrugged, “How”? 

“Because if he were alive, not one of us would be allowed to set foot in this room.   
He was always in here, our whole childhood, plotting his next torment, right”? Jason slid his hand through his hair, exhaling a cloud of smoke throughout the room, “Thank Christ he's not our real father so we couldn't inherit those cold, dead eyes”! He flicked the cigarette across the room into an old copper jar he had supposedly gotten from Africa. He sat back in the chair, sighing. 

“Get out of his chair!" Jason straightened up, frowning as Dick slinked into the room, “oh come on, Dick. Loosen up a little don't be such a dick”. He chuckled, slapping Barbara on the arm lightly as they laughed. Dick sneered, “Jason”! 

“Alright, Alright, save yourself the lecture, Dad”. He slunk at of to the door passing, “what are you doing anyways”? Dick let his eyes wander to Barbara, “Oh,'' Jason crooned, “You too are going to get it on. Where dad worked no less”. Dick glared at Jason fiercely, flicking his head wordlessly talking him to leave. 

“Fine than, I won't bother you any longer, use protection you two, that is if you can find any that fits in Richard's tiny-”, 

“Jason”! Dick yelled, practically growling under his breath. Jason sighed, “Alright, alright”. He huffed, skulking out of the room. Dick looked back to Barbara softly, taking her hands in his, “So, Jason is still Jason in case you wondering," Barbara joked. Dick snorted, carding his hands through her hair, “Did you see Cass? With her stupid outfit?"

“I know”, 

“Do you think she wears it in the shower”? Dick joked, holding her close to his chest.”I missed you”, he murmured softly in her hair. 

“I missed you too”, she smiled, holding his arms softly. “So tell me how my Oracle was while I was gone, I'm sorry I didn't stay, but I'm here now”. Barbara sighed, fidgeting with her bracelet, “I don’t  _ predict _ things any more, I realized I can't just tell someone I want something and expect to get it back”. Dick looked at her softly, “That's good, I love that you're trying to be a better person”. She smiled, linking their fingers. And they stood there together for a while. 

  
  


Dick stood in front of the fireplace, smiling at his family, “I guess we should get this started.   
So, I figured we could have a sort of memorial service in the courtyard at sundown. Say a few words, just at Dad's favorite spot”. Cass sat up, tilting her head, scrunching up her eyebrows, ‘Dad had a favorite spot?' Dick nodded excitedly, “You know, under the oak tree. We used to sit out there all the time.   
None of you ever did that”? 

Jason slipped from behind the bar and slid down next to Tim ruffling his hair as he went. Tim stopped looking up at Dick and instead stared at Jason, who was know popping his legs out and sprawling them across Tim's lap. Tim smiled softly, hiding his face. 

Barbara had been leaning on the couch staring at Dick as he talked. 

“Will there be refreshments”, Jason asked, tilting his head back and chugging from a whiskey bottle as Tim watched with horror and awe. He then smacked his lips, pulling a smoke out of nowhere and lighting it. 

“What”, Dick sighed, “No? And put that out, you know, Dad didn't allow smoking in here”. Jason sprawled his arm out, flicking the cigarette to the floor, moving one of his legs off Tim's lap and grinding it out. Barbara squinted, “Is that my Jacket”? Jason nodded, splaying his arms proudly. 

Dick sighed, “Listen up, important things to discuss, alright”? Cass smirked, holding her hands up to catch everybody's attention, ‘Yeah like what?' 

‘Like the way he died’, Dick responded simply. Cass sighed silently, rolling her eyes. 

“I don’t understand, I they said it was a heart attack”. Tim leaned forward, ignoring Jason's protest. Dick shook his head, “Yeah, well according to the coroner." Barbara cocked her head, “Well wouldn't they know”? 

“Theoretically," Dick supplied. Tim frowned, “theoretically”? 

“I'm just saying, at the very least, something happened. The last time that I talked to Dad, he sounded strange”. Jason chucked his head back again, downing the rest of the drink, “Dad sounded strange, shocker”. Dick sighed, “He told I should be careful who I should trust”. Cass glared at Dick, ‘Dick, he was a paranoid, bitter old man who was starting to lose what was left of his marbles’. 

“No. He must have known something was going to happen.   
Look, I know you don't like to do it, but I need you to talk to Dad”. He turned to Jason who stopped, choking on the drink he had been guzzling. 

“Dickie, Dickie, Dickie. I can't just call Dad in the afterlife and be like, "Dad, could you just stop playing tennis with Hitler for a moment and take a quick call?" Jason rubbed his eyes, yawning. 

“Since when”, Dick questioned, kicking up the carpet, “that's your thing”. Jason tugged on a loose strand on Tim's sweater, “I'm not in the right frame of mind”. What Barbara sniffed, “You're high”? Jason chuckled, “Yeah! Yeah! I mean, how are you not, listening to this nonsense”. Dick clenched his fists, “It's not, nonsense”. Jason snorted, fixing the collar of his jacket, his hands fidgety and energetic. 

Dick nodded, turning to Cass, “Now we have to settle the pendant”. 

“who give a shit about a stupid Pendant’? Cass's hands practically groaned. 

“Exactly. It's worthless. So whoever took it, I think it was personal. Someone close to him. Someone with a grudge."

“Where are you going with this”, Tim complained, kicking up his weighted legs. 

'Oh,' Cassandra signed, 'is it not it obvious, Timmy? He thinks one of us did it’. Tim backpedaled, looking up at Dick “You really think one of us would do that”? Dick grunted, “No, no, Timmy”. Cass groaned, pulling herself up, ‘way to lead, Dick’. Instead of spelling out his name she used the sign for the word meaning something more vulgar. Tim pushed Jason off, him following behind an angry Barbara. He sighed, running his hand through his hair. 

“That's not what I'm saying,'' he complained to Jason. 

“You're crazy,'' Jason accused, scrambling to sit up. “I'm not finished”, Dick added as last resort. 

“Sorry, I'm just gonna go murder Mom. Be right back. '' Jason staggered out, leaving Dick to an empty room. 

_ A woman mouthed softly to the camera holding up a closed fist,  _

_ "In five, four, three, two. This is Viki Vale reporting live for Gotham Channel 2 news, outside of Davenport General Bank on main and sixth. A group of heavily armed men stormed the bank not three hours ago, and took an unknown number of hostages."  _

_ Man in clown masks pushed huddled figures behind the counter, shouting and pushing the civilians aside. A man wearing red, scampered back as a little girl advanced smiling, she leaned in whispering something.  _

_ "I know you're going to shoot your partner in the foot." The man stammered, turning around to fire at his friend. The other man screamed as the bullet hit his foot, "what the hell, man."  _

_ Viki stammers, holding the microphone closer to her face.  _

_ "And we just heard shots from inside the bank it is uncertain if any hostages have been harmed in that." Glass shatters as a man was tossed through the window, falling to the ground, "and it looks like one of the armed robbers has been thrown from the bank."  _

_ Cassandra kicked a robber in the head, tossing a knife to pin him down by his clothes.  _

_ "Guns, are for sissies," she laughed out. Behind her another thug shrieked, backing into a corner, "hey buddy," Cass shouted, "be careful there." Barbara grinned, telling the man soothingly, "we wouldn't want you to get hurt." The thug quivered holding his gun high, "get back now!" He blinked and the gun was, in front of him was a teenage boy, smirking, "or what?" The man looked down to see his weapon was replaced with a stapler. "Oh," the teen said, "that is one badass stapler."  _

_ Viki was shaking in excitement,  _

_ "Although there's been no activity for a few minutes we're gonna stay live to make sure we don't miss anything in this hostage situation a Davenport bank."  _

_ Duke rubbed his arms nervously, "do I really have to do this?" Dick sighed,  _

_ "Come, Duke. there's more guys in the vault." Duke grumbled, "I didn't sign up for this."  _

_ "Honey, none of us did," Jason complained.  _

_ The bank doors burst open, people began to fill out.  _

_ "Now we see the hostages," Viki informed Gotham gleefully, "they're-they're free, they're clearly scared but they do seem unharmed."  _

_ Duke shuffled into the vault bracing himself as long spindly bat wings began to crawl from his gaping chest, pushing and grabbing the men, a thin purple tongue whipped out, licking the flesh from the eviscerated limbs. Duke stumbled out, breathing fast as blood seeped through his clothes, "can we go home now," he begged.  _

_ "People are coming out now," Viki reported, "these are young school children in uniforms with masks on." Beside her Chief Commissioner Gordon called for his men to lower their weapons, "how did you get in," he questioned through a megaphone, "what happened inside?"  _

_ Timothy pulled his sleeves over the pale bruising on his arm.  _

_ "Why can't I go play with the others?" Bruce collapsed his binoculars,  _

_ "We've been through this before Number Seven, I'm afraid there's just nothing special about you."  _

_ "Our world is changing," Bruce told the press, "hass changed. There are some among us gifted with abilities far beyond the ordinary. I have adopted six such children." Timothy flinched from where Bruce had stowed him away. "I give you," Bruce presented, "the inaugural class of the bat academy." The press exploded and from afar Timothy laughed at the ridiculousness of the name, it was a miracle no one laughed Bruce to death.  _

  
  


Jason sprawled himself across the counter, thrusting his head back and downing the rest of the glass. He smacked his lips, belching, before throwing the glass behind him, working his jaw. 

"Listen up old man," he pushed himself off the counter, stumbling toward the sleek, black urn. "I know if I was murdered and if one of my many, many sons happened to be able to commune with the dead, I might think about," he shrugs dramatically, cackling, "I don't-I don't know, manifesting?" He ran and hand through his hair, "do the whole big angry ghost thing and poof here, tell me how I'm a disappointment." He slammed the glass down screaming, "come on!" 

Jason sniffed, 

"I see how it is," he hiked his legs up rolling across the bar. "You know, I had a friend named Roy, his dad was exactly like you," he chuckled, "and I don't know, we got close about that...and I-I found out he was doing drugs." He pulled out a cigarette, "I could've dragged his white ass to rehab, or you know tried to stop him, something. Except you," he chuckled, "you had just called me to get me to come back home...I suspected it had been Alfred who had told you to pull your head out of your ass and truly the moment I heard your voice I was prepared to come back, to you, Timmy, Babs, even Dickie." He spurted out a cloud of ash, "but then you had to go and comment on how you were saving me from myself, you acted like this selfish martyr, so kindly taking in his broken son." Outside Bruce's vast garden rustled nervously. "So I asked him where we could get more, and I spent all of my life savings in an afternoon, because of you. Do you know how fucked up it is to have to go through the shit you put us through, mixed with our powers." 

He groaned, sliding a hand over his face, "come on," he slammed his hands down, "come on!" The urn rattled, falling down to the table and spilling. Jason looked down and sighed, "fuck me with a pointed stick."    
  
Dick surveyed the room quietly, his body ached with a longing to go home. He was already home he argued, the only home he'd ever known, whereas could he go? The question sent pangs through his body. Around him little toy cops had been propped up with melted tooth brushes molded into holders, some of his action figures had been crammed into a small car, they carried toy lasers shaped like hearts and cats. Bruce had never allowed guns, toys or not, in the house. But boys couldn't use anything other than a gun when it came to fighting for good. Dick frowned, 

"Patriarchy," he muttered to himself. He ran his fingers across the toys, pushing them back and forth watching them spin, delighted. 

A cold thought struck him, 

_ your room didn't look like this when you left. _

"You sentimental old man, Bruce." Everything was played out in an exact attack plan Bruce had taught them hundreds of times, he had liked to call it together formation, it was when they were all cornered and had nowhere else to go but up, Bruce told them they could only plow through it together. It was the only attack formations he hadn't constantly heckled them on, it was designed for team bonding, having someone backseat driving didn't help the bonding process, Bruce stated. 

"You did miss us after all," Dick concluded, "now how much did you mess with my stuff?" He pushed softly on the drawer, watching it slid open full of old vinyls mixed with disco and pop. "You better have left my vinyls alone or I swear not even death will protect you." He crouched beside a record player, fiddling with wires and knobs before sliding the disk in listening carefully. 

  
  


Static crackled softly, and then like breathing the music slipped into its beginning like it had always been. And a woman sang softly into her mic, just like she always had, just like she always would in the existence of that one tape, it would not change, no matter how shattered or broken the disc became the song's existence was static. 

  
  


Jason looked up as bubbles surrounded him, falling to his skin. The drum machine in the background reverberated with the voice of the woman, rolling off her tongue, from her throat. She trilled her voice sounding vast and honey filled. He smiled, popping the bubbles one by one.   
  


  
Tim looked up from his cupped palms, the bubbles doubling, getting smaller and smaller until it was bead like, opalescent, shining pink, silver, white, blue. They bounced off the windows, absorbing into the floor.    
  


  
Cass eyed the ceiling as music spiralled, the pearls rolling from every tiny seam in the house. Her face relaxed and her hands stilled from her menial job of shining, sterling silver knives. The drums picked up and tentatively she slid off the couch, tapping her fingers rhythmically 

  
Jason picked up the urn, holding it to his chest and dipped, swirling with the music. Dick had begun to rock, taping his feet and humming, muttering the words.    
  
Cass tiptoed to the door, rolling it shut softly. A large grin broke out on her face and she jumped up, thrusting her hips and punching the air, slicing like she was defending herself instead of enjoying herself.    
  
Tim steadied himself, rocking back and forth, threading his hands out like serpents. He muttered the words to the song, swaying ever so lightly. 

Barbara bit her lip excited, she plucked a scarf from her armoire, shimmying it down her waist, thrusting her chest out, dancing along the way, wrapping the scarf along her shoulders. Cass flicked her wrist, pretending to reel a fishing line, smiling. She popped her arms out, sliding knives out quickly, hitting the taxidermy beast head on. She jumped, looking around sheepishly to see if anyone noticed.   
  
Dick jumped up, kicking his feet out like a cheerleader smashing his fist against the ceiling,    
"Oh shit", debris scattered along the floor, spackling the carpet.    
'Shit, shit."    
  


  
The house fell, still and content. Tim stared down the halls happily, maybe it will work out now, he promised to himself. Maybe, Barbara agreed.    
  
Bright blue lightning shook the room, thunder knocking the point of the music player of its track. Jason looked up out the back door sleepily. Metal object flew to the direction of the storm and the bats filed out, shocked. A rip in time flickered, flowering like fire, coursing in streams.    
"What is it?'' Barbara screamed, taking Dick by the hand.    
"Don't get too close", Tim warned, holding Cass back from running forward. She scoffed silently, hitting him in a yeah, no shit way.    
  
The rip opened wide and Jason scurried out, tossing a fire extinguisher toward the void, "out of the way", he stumbled and Dick steadied him.    
"It's either a temporal anomaly or a black hole", Dick concluded,   
"Those are two pretty different things", Tim shouted.    
  
A glitch filtered through the middle, getting younger and younger with each burst of electricity. Till the void spurt into nothing, Damian fell, groaning. "Little-", Dick swallowed, "Little wing". He rushed forward collecting the smaller bird in his arms. Damian looked down at his body, cursing "Shit, I'm thirteen again".    
  


  
The bats sat around the table, the urn sitting in the middle of the room.    
"What's the date", Damian asked, "the exact date"?    
"The twenty fourth", Tim responded simply. "What month"? Damian asked, pushing Dick off of him.    
"March", Jason hummed, lighting a cigarette.    
  
Damian layed out the bread, slathering jelly and peanut butter on his sandwich.    
"Are we going to talk about this", Cass signed. Damian squinted, "Sorry, I'm-ah, a little rusty on my ASL. Could you talk since I'm around, now?" Cass glared, clearing her throat and shaking her head, a clear no.    
  
"It's been seventeen years," Dick simpered, "We've missed you, Little D." Damian shrugged Dick's arm off of him.    
"It's been a lot longer than that," he phased through Dick's chest, appearing out of the cupboard.    
  
"I haven't missed that", Dick muttered, rubbing his chest.    
'Where did you go'? Cass signed out, tilting her head, Damain looked to Dick for translation, "She was asking where you were."   
"Oh," Damian sighed, "where else, Dear Sister, the future. It's shit by the way."    
"Called it", Jason cheered, clapping. Damian sighed, opening the fridge, "I should've listened more clearly to Father, he always knew what was right."   
  
"Jumping through space, it's...it's difficult at best".

"At worst," Tim questioned. Damian scooped a spoonful of peanut butter out onto the bread, 

"Ever woken up, only to realize you haven't, you dreamed it all and no matter what you do your body is stuck asleep, until you jerk it just hard enough and everything breaks open like an egg...nice jacket by the way, Jay". Jason grinned, "It's Barbara's". She frowned, elbowing him in the ribs.    
  
"How did you get back", Tim asked, staring at the younger through his hair, "Oh, Tim," Damian sneered, "It's nice to see that the ordinary haven't given up hope, why you're still here alludes me". Dick frowned, bumping Damian in the shoulder, "Hey, come on, answer his question. Don't talk to your brother that way".    
  
"In the end I had to project my conscious forward in a quantum space version of myself that exists across every instance of time,    
'That makes no sense', Cass signed out, crinkling her nose.    
  
"Well it would if you were smarter", Damian shot back, Cass pounced forward caught still by Dick's arm, he stared sympathetically at his little wing, "How long were you there"? Damian thought for a second,   
"I suppose, forty-five years give or take.'' Everyone sat back in there chair, Dick looking especially distraught,    
"So what you're saying...is that you're fifty eight," Damian shrugged, taking a bite from his sandwich, "No, my conscious is Fifty eight, Richard, my body is now Thirteen again, do you know how frustrating it is to find out you will have to endure puberty twice"?    
  
He shrugged, looking down at the newspaper, "Guess I missed the funeral".    
"How'd you know about that," Barbara asked, Damian rolled his eyes, "What part of the future do you not understand? Heart failure, huh?" Cassandra nodded, toying with a small dagger strapped to her shoulder,    
"We don't know for sure", Dick said through gritted teeth.    
  
Damian sighed, "Nice to see nothing has changed,'' he took another bite, turning back around, "Titus always told me that Dad could never change, I almost didn't want to believe him".    
"I'm sorry, who"? Tim shriveled at the whitening flare Damian sent him, he stuck his nose up, walking out.    
  
"That's it," Barbara asked, "that's all you've got to say"? Damian continued to walk out, shoving one hand in his pocket, "what do you want me to say, Dear sister? Life ebbs and flows to a faceless master of its own making."   
  
"Well", Dick started, "that was interesting.    
  


  
Damian skimmed through his clothes, revealing all black hooded capes, padded shirts and tights all in boring black, combat boots steel tipped stood vigilante. Damian scoffed, "Like I'm going to wear this crap again," he pulled his paint set out from his desk and got to work.    
  
Tim crept into the living room, cautious not to attract too much attention from Damian.    
"It's nice to know Dad remembered me", Tim froze, to see the thirteen year old in red coated shirts, padded with light weight bullet proof armor, his armored pants were now bright green and a golden R shaped like a throwing star was slashed on his chest. Tim swallowed, he had designed the costume himself, when he was a little kid and still wanted to be a hero.    
  
"I read your book by the way", he pulled the cape close to him, his gauntlets painted the same shade as his armored pants.    
"Found it in the library that was still standing". He walked around the room, taking everything in, "thought it was pretty good, all things considered". Tim clenched his hands into a fist, Damian never complimented him ever. "Considering just who you were betraying," he spat, "I would the actions would be admirable if they were not executed like a coward".    
  
"They hate me', Tim sighed, "just like you always wanted". Damian grinned, "There are worse things to happen and I didn't want everyone to hate". Tim snorted, turning away, "yes you did."   
  
"Not entirely, no. I admired you as a child, it takes courage for a mortal to stand with it's gods." 

"You're just so full of it, aren't you," Tim spit out. Damian shrugged a hoodie over his costume, examining his appearance in the mirror, "I suppose that decades of turmoil does go to your head, yes, but there are worse things to happen."    
"You mean like what happened to Duke", Tim responded simply. "Was it bad"? Damain asked, Tim looked out the window before sighing and walking out to meet the others.    
  
Rain patterned on the concrete floor, hitting Duke's statue softly. The door opened and everyone filed out, Dick leading with Bruce's ashes in the urn. He looked up, letting the rain fall on his face while the others carried umbrellas, shading their pale faces.    
  
"Did something happen", Selina asked happily, she hummed to herself, inspecting her black facade.    
"Dad died", Barbara muttered, "remember"? Silena nodded, looking at the urn, "oh, sorry. Yes of course.    
  
"Is mom okay"? Barbara asked,    
'Yes', Cass signed defensively, "she just needs to recharge". Damain stared at her with glazed eyes like he was remembering a horrible memory, like there were screams in the back of his mind.    
  
Alfred hobbled out, back hunched over a cane, "Whenever you're ready Master Grayson".    
"Grayson", Damian asked, softly, "who's Grayson"?    
  
"We changed our last names", Jason stuttered out, high off his shit, "Mine is Todd, Cass's Cain, Timmy boy took Drake and Dick chose Grayson, Wayne just messed us up you know." Damian nodded, mulling it over in his head, "Grayson. I like it."   
  
The rain patter mixed with the sound of Dick emptying the urn onto the forest floor, the ashes plopped to the ground with the March winds. Jason shivered, his teeth chatter around the smoke.    
"Probably would've been better with some wind," he tried. Barbara laughed softly.    
  
"Does anyone wish to speak"? Alfred asked the circle, everyone looked down. Silena continued to humm happily, bouncing on her feet. Tim felt the pulse of the storm ride through his finger, sparking in his thumbs. He coughed, stopping the feeling before it got too weird, he assumed it was his anxiety, I have to take my pills, he tried to remind himself.    
  
"In all regards, Master Bruce made me what I am today.'' He sniffled looking up at the grey, obscured sun. "For that alone, I shall forever be in his debt. He was my master...and my friend, and I shall miss him very much. He leaves behind a complicated memory-",    
"He was a monster". Jason muttered, "He plucked us street rats off from the alleys paying our parents for their troubles and going along on his merry way, you wanna know why he didn't stop at two, or one even? Because when accidents like Damian happen, or Duke, he has more to pop right back into place like psychotic little matryoshka dolls".    
"Jason", Barbara snapped. 

"No, Bab's that's not my name, my name is number four, because he never bothered to give us real names, you know who did? Silena." Silena's head bobbed slightly at the mention of her name.    
  
"You can pay your respects, I of all people can tell you. The dead appreciate it. But if you do, you should be honest and give him the respect a jack-ass deserves", he spit on the ashes, sneering.    
"I think you should stop talking now", Dick warned. Jason frowned, "why? You of all people should be taking my side here, Number One".    
"I am warning you"? Dick leaned in and Damian looked up to Cass for answers, she shrugged signing something he couldn't understand.    
  
"He had to ship you, a million miles away", "Jason, stop talking".    
"That's how much he couldn't stand the sight of you". Damian glared at Cass as she continued to sign, despite Damian barely understanding a thing she says, 

"who's a chicken"? He asked, squinting to catch up with how fast her hands were moving, "a sparkly chicken"?    
  
Dick punched Jason, reeling in his strength meaning to only push him back, Jason ducked sweeping Dick's feet out from under him, The older caught himself, backspringing to land behind Jason. Cass held her arm out instinctively to help Damian. Damian, sneered pushing her away.   
  
"Stop it", Tim shouted, stepping forward hands spread.    
"Hit him", Damian heckled, getting whacked upside the head by Cass in return. Alfred scoffed, walking away. Dick continued to punch, while Jason dodged and lurched away, a torpid smile on his lips, "blow me bitch," he yelled.   
  
"I don't have time for this,'' Damian walked back in as Dick thrust forward hitting the statue straight on. Jason winced, clutching his ear, looking to his side distracted.   
"There goes Duke's statue you idiot", Barbara huffed, walking back inside.    
  
Cass sighed, pulling out a knife and tossing at the two to separate them, the edge flashed like quicksilver grazing Dick's forearm. He gasped, quickly throwing his hand over the cut, "rude," he yelled. Jason smirked, 

"Nice shot sis'. Should've aimed for the head". She stomped forward, signing a mile a minute, pure rage in her eyes. Tim kept his head down and huddled inside, pulling Silena in. Cass yelled silently at them one last time before turning on her heel, following signing back and forth with her Mom concern clear as day on her face."This is all your fault, Jason," Dick muttered as he trudged inside.    
  
Jason calmed himself, taking the cigarette from between his cold lips, he leaned down to the ashes, "I bet you are loving this hmm, family reunion, yeah". He scoffed, dousing the embers of the smoke in the cinders of his father. "Sorry 'bout your statue by the way, I'll buy you a new one," he cocked his head listening, "yeah, you're right," he wheezed out, "I'd definitely spend it on crack."   
  


  
Tim shuffled nervously, swallowing a pill from his medicine bottle.    
Alfred rushed forward, disappointment on his face. "Don't waste your time, it's valuable Alf', everyone was right, I don't belong here." Alfred nodded, "shall I get you a taxi?"   
"You're welcome to, but I already called one". Alfred muttered, worriedly, "I, ah, hoped you know, your father loved you very much." The taxi honked and Tim turned, "Lying isn't your cup of tea Alfred, I gotta go, good bye." He reached out and held the older man, getting one last grasp of a self constructed lie of a home before turning and walking out the door. Alfee sighed, turning to head back to the study. 

  
Barbara walked into the kitchen, staring at Jason and Damian, "Where's Tim", Jason rolled his eyes, tilting back his head to chug from the bottle, "you never cared before, why start now?" Barbara glared.    
"Alright, alright, he's gone, happy?"    
"I am", Damian muttered, looking at a jar. Babrabra scoffed, "Can it shorty, Tim deserves to be here as much as you." Damain laughed, "No he doesn't". He stood up, wandering toward the cupboard, back and forth, scrounging for food.   
  
"All of this vast waste of money spent on us and not a single drop of coffee," Damian muttered.    
"Dad hated caffeine," Barbara added, fixing the straps to her dress.

"He hated children too but he had plenty of us", Jason grumbled, tossing his head back again.    
"I'm taking the car", Damian resolved, walking off to the garage. "Where are you going"? Jason asked, as he nursed a bottle of a thick, eye watering alcohol. 

"To get a decent cup of coffee."   
"Do you even know how to drive," Barbara asked.    
  
"I know how to do anything," Damian said, shifting space to the garage.    
"I feel like we should try to stop him," Jason said, stumbling to get up, "but then again I kinda just wanna let him and watch and see what happens." Barbara looked up as the car roared to life.    
  
Damian pulled in, stopping the car in front of a diner. He grinned, it had been starting out when he disappeared and it was still around now, years later. A nature friendly cafe that makes only vegetarian products, they also had the best coffee. Damian pushed open the door, staring at the large plants that echoed up the room, like spidery veins on a soccer mom. He sat down waiting to be served.    
  


  
'Alright, I'll see you guys in like, what ten year when Alfred dies?" Cass signed out to Barbara,   
"Not unless you die first," Cass laughed silently, "Yeah, yeah, love you too,'' she didn't sign Barbara anymore, she always made the sign for fancy when talking about her, just like Dick was happy and Bruce was dark, her hands moving in, in spread out palms, facing her face. She scratched her scar nervously, walking out to her car.   
  
"Are we leaving", Jason asked half drunk barely able to stay on his feet.    
'No I'm leaving, you're staying here," she held her palms out pushing them away, her own way of telling Jason to back off.    
"Great, I'll go get my things". Cass sighed, looking back before walking out to her car again.    
  
She slid into her car, tossing her bag in.    
"Hey, Cassie". Jason skid in front of the car opening the door, Cass's knuckles clenched around the steering wheel.    
"You know, every time I close my eyes I see a dirreachtic hippo about to shit on my face, it's terrifying"! He slapped her shoulder, smiling warmly. 'GREAT'. She spelled out, clearly angry.    
  
Dick watched from the window as they drove out. And somewhere across the house Silena sat down and admired her paintings. The ones Bruce would oh so generously place her in front of too calm her newly born mind. A wire shot out of the arm rest and into her ear and she powered off to recharge.    
  


  
  
A man walked in and slid in next Damian as he waited. He took his hat off and squinted at the menu. Pamela Ivy shuffled out, smiling brightly, "cute kid,'' she commented to the trucker, "what do you want?" He sighed, squinting again, "is there anything on the menu that doesn't look like you dug up dirt and plopped it on a plate". Pamela sighed, clenching her fingers in and out just like her therapistttaught her for when her anxiety towards men came into play, or her anger towards men ebbed at her conscious. "We have a dessert option if you look to your corner". He brightened, leaning in, "I'll have the", he sighed again, "vegan chocolate eclair".    
  
"Mhm, sure. Can I get the kid a glass of milk of something". Damian frowned, "The kid wants coffee black". Ivy paused, looking startled, "Oh, alright". She jot it down going back into the kitchen.    
  
Damian peered at the man's jacket as his order was made, "you must know your way around the city"? He looked up as Pamela brought his order out, "I hope so I've been driving around it for twenty years.'' Damian nodded, "Good, I need an address".    
  
The man walks out minutes after, lumbering down to his car. And Damian sat back and enjoyed his coffee. Lights flashed and Damian watched through the order bell as as group of men file in,quiet military fashion. He frowned.    
  
"Hmm, that was fast, thought they had more time before they found me", Damian mumbled, 

"okay," leader warned,"so let's all be professional about this, yeah? On your feet, come with us, they wanna talk". Damian smirked, "I got nothing to say".    
"It doesn't have to be this way,'' the leader begged, "you think I wanna shoot a kid, go home with that on my concious"?    
"Well I won't be worrying about that, you won't be going home".    
  
Damian jumped up, disarming the man and slamming his head down. He movedt p the next, shifting through space. Moving faster than they could see, splitting their throats and taking the lights with a butter knife. The last men grouped together back to back guarding all sides and Damian shifted back and forth taunting them. He slammed one down breaking his neck, stabbing the other through the eye, letting the rest pick each other off with friendly fire. He shifted back, standing on the wreckage smiling,    
  
He checked the bodies, picking up a tracker. He scoffed, moving his things to cut the metal bit from his arm. He walked out, dropping the tracker near the drain, fixing his gear in the reflective puddle as he passed. Pamela looked up from the wreckage shuttering, "why does this shit keep happening to me"?    
  


  
Cass leaned over the docks, her Dad's bat pendant hanging from between her fingers. She sighed, opting whether to drop it not. Jason opened the door, "Yoo-hoo, Cass, hate to rush you through any brooding moment you might be having but come on man, we're starving," he looked back in the car muttering something quietly.    
"I'm cravin... eggs, no it's too late for eggs," he face a hooded figure in the car smiling, "waffles? My you like waffles don't you"? The figure nodded and Jason smiled, "Of course you do. Everyone likes waffles." Cass let the pendant slip through her fingers and she stared off into the sky.    
  
Her radio squawked, fizzling out broken half words. She rushed forward at the word gunshots.    
"Cass, thank you for joining us, we have decided on, drum roll..waffles". Cass turned back, signing, slowly, emotionlessly, "I'm going to drop you off at the bus stop, I'm going to get back to work".    
  
Jason sighed and the figure was gone, "what? Breaking bones, cracking skulls"? The motor roared the life and Cass pulled out, "saving lives, baby," she mouthed. Jason looked at the hooded figure than at Cass,    
"Well, I guess it's frozen waffles again," he complained to Duke, who stared at the floor in disappointment. Cass looked back curiously,    
"Yeah I could do eggs and bacon," Jason commented. "But I'm trying to cut back on my pork". Cass pulled on her mask and drove off into the night, steam enveloping her car in a haze.    
  


  
Tim stared at his empty hallway in disdain, he opened his door and went to turn on the lights, he swore, jumping in a defense position at Damian, who sat smirking at him in the darkness, "you should put locks on your windows", 

"we're on the second floor," Tim retorted, heading in.    
"Rapists can climb", Damian assured him.    
"You are so weird", Tim complained, pulling the rest of his stuff in. Tim sat down across from Damian and looked him over, "Is that blood?" 

Damian shrugged, "it's nothing." Tim nodded, running his hands down his thighs, "why are you here?" Damian sighed, shifting to sit forward, trying to look approachable and failing "I've decided you're the only one I can trust." Tim glared, "you hate me, so why trust me?" Damian grinned, "because, you Tim, are absolutely ordinary".    
  


  
"Jee thanks", Tim sighed, going to his kitchen. He pulled gauze and anti-bacterial out, walking back to Damian slowly, taking time to process. He begins to bandage his brother's arm, ready to snap if provoked. Damian watched him like a cornered cat ready to lash out and scratch Tim if he does anything unacceptable. He straightened up as his brother finished the wound's dressing, "when I went to the future do you know what I saw"?    
Tim shook his head, "No." Damian nodded, "Nothing. Absolutely nothing."    
  
His memories broke and he was a terrified teenage boy who had no way of getting back home, because it had failed him.    
"As far as I could tell I was the last person alive, never quite figured out what killed the human race but I did find something else, the date it happens." Tim gaped at Damian, "the widow ends in eight days and I don't know how to stop it".    
Tim closed his mouth, speaking, "I'll put on a pot of coffee."

**Author's Note:**

> Comment, please!! IT'S LITTERALLY WHAT KEEPS ME GOING IN LIFE.


End file.
